


Not Quite Twenty-Four

by Somniare



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: A day at the office, Friendship, Lewis Summer Challenge 2014, Life in general, Multi, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2077557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somniare/pseuds/Somniare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Hathaway hit the alarm and swore; he’d meant to hit the snooze button.  Now he’d have to get up or risk oversleeping.  He always struggled to get started on the first day after handing a case to CPS and today wasn't going to be an exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Twenty-Four

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Barcardivodka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barcardivodka/gifts).



> Written for the Lewis Summer Challenge 2014, inspired by a prompt from barcardivodka.
> 
> Many thanks to Small_Hobbit for beta and Brit-pick. As is my wont, it has been tinkered with, so any gaffes are all mine.

 

* * *

 

Robbie Lewis pushed himself into a sitting position before reaching over and silencing the piercing beeps.  It was an effective alarm but it didn't half give him a headache some mornings.  He rubbed his hands over his face, grimacing at the rasp of stubble.  Just once he’d like to not have to shave on a work morning; he knew James got away with it from time to time – a perk of being blond, Robbie supposed.  Before he could stand, Monty was half-on, half-off his lap, his back legs and tail stretched out across the bed while his front paws reached across Robbie’s thighs, the claws digging in ever so slowly.  
  
“If you want your breakfast, you’ll get off me,” Robbie scolded gruffly but gently as he briefly scratched under the cat's chin.  
  
Monty kneaded a little more until Robbie had had enough and stood, leaving the cat little choice but to drop to the floor and follow.  
  
“Just for that, you can wait ‘til after I’ve had me shower.”  
  
They went through the same routine every morning on those days when Robbie wasn't being rushed out the door by an ongoing case or urgent phone call.

 

* * *

 

James Hathaway hit the alarm and swore; he’d meant to hit the snooze button.  Now he’d have to get up or risk oversleeping.  He always struggled to get started on the first day after handing a case to CPS and today wasn't going to be an exception.  The urgency was gone, and while bombarding his mind with rubbish telly for several hours the night before had cleared away many of the images the case had left behind, it hadn't been conducive to restful sleep or clear thought; it never was, but that never stopped him.  The massive curry and four beers he’d had at Lewis’s hadn't exactly helped either, and, despite brushing his teeth and rinsing with Listerine, he could still taste the last of the raita and naan when he burped.  Lewis had warned him about finishing it off, but James had waved him away.  In the end, instead of spending the night at Lewis’s as planned, the fear he might actually throw up on Lewis’s floor had propelled James out the door and into a taxi.  
  
“Should've listened,” he muttered to no-one and nothing as he sat up and swung his feet to the floor.  “Should've stayed.”  He knew Lewis would have tolerated him grumpy and hungover first thing – he was probably the only person James knew who could.  Unlike anyone else, though, Lewis could also bring James out of a bad temper.  Scratching his head, James rose to his feet with a groan and made his way to the bathroom.  A pee, a shave, and a shower might restore some of his more human traits.  
  
Standing under the hot stream of water, James felt the muscles in his neck and shoulders begin to loosen.  He hung his head, letting the water beat down, and hoped Lewis hadn't been too put out by his unexpected departure.

 

* * *

 

Laura Hobson packed away the last of the sterilised instruments.  There was still a report to be written, but in a bit over an hour she would start her eagerly anticipated fortnight off.  After a month of interrupted days off, overly long night shifts, and too many corpses – every hastened death was one corpse too many in her opinion – she was more than ready to leave behind the harsh fluorescent lights and antiseptic smells.  
  
These were the times, tired and lacking faith in mankind, when Laura wondered if she should move into another field, something controlled and ordered where she could wear a scent other than that of death.  She’d had offers – a research post in London, and a teaching position in Dundee – but in her heart she knew she’d miss the sense of triumph when a killer was brought to justice.  For today, she’d be grateful if death could hold off until she’d left the building.  That would be enough.

 

* * *

 

Jean Innocent leant against the door frame and watched her sleeping husband.  She envied his ability to sleep through alarms and early morning phone calls, but then he’d had years of practice, starting when Jean had first made Detective Constable.  It hadn't been easy, especially with a young son, but they’d worked at it and had come through the other side.  He’d only complained once, when her first case as an inspector fell in the middle of the World Cup.  Jean had witnessed the breakdown of several of her peers’ marriages and she knew she’d been blessed when she’d first met Phillip – even if he wasn't the most social of men.  
  
Jean had heard all the rumours: there was no Mr Innocent; they'd been divorced for years; it was a marriage of convenience; and, he worked overseas or travelled a lot were among the more common.  Jean's personal favourite was the one about her and Robbie Lewis being a couple, and that she always made a show of asking him to accompany her to an event in front of at least one witness in order to conceal their ‘true’ relationship. She suspected Robbie had never heard that one, or, being the gentleman he was, he'd heard it and quietly put the gossiper in their place.  
  
The simple truth was, outside of their home and his work environment, Phillip was one of the most reserved people Jean knew; by comparison, James Hathaway was almost a social butterfly.  It had been Jean who'd first asked Phillip out, and she still fondly remembered his stunned acceptance.  
  
She gave herself a shake. The morning's meetings wouldn't wait for her.  She crossed over to the bed and kissed her sleeping husband, lover, and friend, smiling gently as he turned his sleepy face towards her and met her lips with his own.

 

* * *

 

Robbie answered the familiar knock.  He opened the front door with a cheery “morning” and walked back to the table, confident James would follow.  As far as Robbie was concerned, James being here, looking more or less as he’d expect, was a good sign.  At the very least, James wasn't punishing himself for rushing off without explanation.  The best thing Robbie could do for James now was let things be.  
  
“Coffee’s freshly made," Robbie said, waving a hand towards the kitchen, “and there’s a new box of Cornflakes in the cupboard if you don’t want toast.”  
  
Robbie chuckled to himself at James’s exaggerated gagging – he’d quickly discovered James wasn't a cereal person, which only encouraged his teasing – and returned to his own meal.  He couldn't quite remember when it became habit for James to have breakfast at his place on the days they weren't on an active case.  He did recall it started with James complaining about the instant coffee Robbie used, and bringing over his spare cafetière the following morning, along with some of his favourite ground coffee.  Regardless of how it had evolved – and he was sure James could tell him precisely – as he listened to the sounds of James making his breakfast Robbie was glad of the routine and James’s company, and once again he found himself pushing down the recurring wish it was a more frequent occurrence.

 

* * *

 

One inhale told James Lewis had restocked with James’s coffee of choice, and when he opened the bread bin James discovered the new grain bread he’d told Lewis about the week before.  As he popped two slices in the toaster, he looked across to the table where Lewis was quietly chewing as he read the newspaper.  James smiled fondly at the familiar dark head.  Whether they had one day or a week between cases, this simple shared meal had become, to James, a ritual which brought him great comfort after the turmoil and conflict of a case, and he felt more at home here than he ever had in his own flat.  As he poured his coffee, he forgave Lewis for the Cornflakes crack – at least it wasn't Shredded Wheat.

 

* * *

 

Laura pushed through the doors and stepped out into the weak sunlight.  She closed her eyes and stretched her neck, lifting her face towards the sun in an effort to shake off the gloom of the night.  As much as she wanted to go home, shower, and then crawl into bed, the luxury of sleep was going to have to wait a little longer.  She only had a few hours before Ellen Jacoby would be at her front door to whisk her off to the airport and the south of France, and she still had to finish packing.  It would be the first proper holiday Laura had taken in nearly two years, and she was grateful to Ellen for thinking of her.  
  
Laura gave herself a shake and headed towards her car.  Her eye was drawn to the empty space reserved for Jean Innocent.  “Odd,” she murmured to herself.  She knew Jean was habitually in at 8am, regardless of what had happened the night before.  Laura reached her own vehicle and glanced back.  As far as she was aware, there were no new major crimes scenes Jean may have been expected to attend, though it had been an extremely busy night for those on duty otherwise, and she was confident station gossip would have relayed any bad news regarding the Chief Super at lightning speed.  Concluding there would be a perfectly reasonable explanation, Laura pushed Jean Innocent’s tardiness out of her mind, got into her car, and headed for home.

 

* * *

 

Jean had only intended to give Phillip a quick kiss good-bye but his kisses had quickly become eager and demanding.  Jean was all too conscious it had been a while since they’d had an opportunity to be intimate on any level, and when he’d whispered, “surely they won’t miss you for half an hour or so,” she’d given in to temptation.  
  
By the time she’d finally, though very reluctantly, left their bed and showered again, she knew she’d have no chance of making the 9am senior officers’ briefing on time.  Well, bugger them, she’d thought, let them wonder why the Chief Super was late.  If nothing else, the resultant rumours could make for interesting listening later in the day.

 

* * *

 

Robbie suppressed a groan as DCI Webb continued his summary of the current state of affairs.  Between an unusual spike in violent crime overnight, illness, and leave, Robbie had realised he and James would swiftly be back at the top of the rotation.  There’d be little time to catch up on paperwork, and their quiet breakfasts would be on hold again.  An opening door distracted him, and Robbie glanced at his watch as Innocent hurried into the room.  Not only was she more than fifteen minutes late, she obviously hadn't been to her office as she was still wearing her coat and had her handbag on her shoulder.  She waved to Webb to keep going.  
  
Robbie tried to concentrate on what was being said as he watched Innocent urgently flicking through other briefing papers.  That surprised Robbie even more than her late arrival.  While she had been late to briefings before, it was unlike Innocent to turn up unprepared, and there’d been nothing in the briefing so far to indicate why she might have been otherwise occupied.  Webb handed over to Innocent and, as she took her place at the lectern, Robbie’s attention was drawn to Innocent’s appearance.  Surely that wasn't what he thought it was, was it? He saw DI Laxton’s eyes widen when Innocent turned her head to answer a question from someone at the side of the room.  At least he wasn't the only one to see it. Robbie cast his eye around the room, wondering if any of the other senior officers present had also noticed, and whether any would be foolhardy enough to start gossiping.

 

* * *

 

James stared out the window of the break room, not quite believing what he’d just overheard.  Lewis had returned from his meeting around ten minutes earlier and James had offered to make them both a brew.  He’d been planning to go anyway as he’d been struggling to make sense of the previous month’s overtime return; HR had recently reworked the spreadsheet the teams were required to use and James had already found two errors in the formulas.  
  
 _Someone had attacked Innocent?_ James shook his head.  It couldn't possibly be true.  For one thing, Lewis would have mentioned it the second he’d stepped into the office, and, more importantly, the story would have gone around the nick much faster.  But... there was no smoke without fire.  He carried the two steaming mugs back to the office, placing one next to Lewis’s keyboard before sitting down at his own desk.  
  
As Lewis lifted his mug to his lips, James asked, “So what’s this I hear about Innocent being strangled?”

 

* * *

 

Laura stepped under the shower.  She briefly wondered just how hot she could bear the water today, and how long it would take to get the smell of the morgue out of her hair this time, before dwelling on more pleasant things.  By early evening she would be far away from here, facing two weeks of doing absolutely nothing if she so desired.  Through the generosity of friends of Ellen’s, she and Ellen would be staying with them in their coastal villa, complete with house staff, and Laura still couldn't quite believe her good fortune.  It hadn't escaped Laura’s attention that she was one of the few people Ellen knew who, like Ellen, didn't have a significant other, nor that, had she still been seeing Franco, or anyone for that matter, she wouldn't have accepted the invitation – that was assuming it would even have been made.  There were definite benefits to the single life, Laura decided.  She ducked her head under the coursing water and let the hot darts drive the last of the night away.

 

* * *

 

Jean quickly covered her mouth and swallowed down the mouthful of coffee.  
  
“Strangled?” she choked out in disbelief.  “I most certainly have not been strangled, nor attacked for that matter.  Who said that?”  
  
Her PA, Amy, grimaced.  “DI Grainger called to ask if he should reschedule his meeting with you ‘in light of the circumstances’.  When I asked him ‘what circumstances’ he said...  Well, sounded a bit indignant I’d asked the question and blurted out, ‘I heard she’d been attacked,’ and that it looked like someone had tried to choke you.”  
  
“Good Lord!” Jean exclaimed.  “What on earth could have given anyone that idea?”  
  
The uncomfortable expression on Amy’s face put Jean on guard.  “Amy, what are you not saying?”  
  
The young woman pressed her lips together.  “Back in a second, ma’am.”  She walked briskly to the outer office.  
  
Jean could hear Amy rummaging in the small locker under her desk; it was where she kept her hand bag and other personal items.  Amy returned shortly carrying a hand mirror and her make-up purse, and held out the mirror to Jean who took it warily.  With her now free hand, Amy gestured to a point on her own neck, below her ear and above her collar.  
  
Jean raised the mirror and lifted her chin.  She gasped quietly and felt heat flood her cheeks.  There was a pattern of small red marks clearly visible above the neckline of her blouse.   Jean had seen the love bites Phillip had left on her collarbone, but somehow had missed the more visible ones.  She really had been distracted as she’d rushed to get out the door.   _Oh, Phillip._   She wasn't angry at him, more annoyed with herself for not stopping him, but it had been... intoxicating.  A small cough reminded Jean she wasn't alone.  
  
Amy was holding out a small tube.  “This concealer’s excellent, ma’am.  You and I have a similar skin tone, so it should work a treat.”  
  
“Thank you, Amy, but I have–”  
  
“Trust me, ma’am.”  Amy’s cheeks had reddened.  “You’ll want this one.  It’s excellent for... well...”  
  
Thanking her again, Jean took the offered make-up.  Amy left the office, closing the door behind her.  Raising the mirror again, Jean worked quickly to cover the evidence of her morning of, well, it really was passion, wasn't it?  
  
“Not bad,” she murmured as she studied the effect.  “Bloody brilliant, in fact.”  She’d have to ask Amy where she bought it, just in case the need should ever arise again.  Her desk phone rang.  
  
“Ma’am, Inspector Grainger’s here for his meeting.”  Jean could hear a slight hesitation in Amy’s voice.  
  
“You've literally saved my neck, Amy.  Thank you,” she said sincerely.  “Please send the inspector in.”  Jean was looking forward to watching Grainger trying to avoid looking at her neck, as he would, and his eventual reaction when he did.  A confused Grainger always brought a smile to Jean’s face, almost as much as a flustered Peterson.

 

* * *

 

“Give us your tissues, lad.”  
  
James tossed the box across to Robbie, who ripped out a handful and started to mop up the sprayed tea off his desk.   _Strangled!  Bloody hell._ Mind you, less than twenty minutes from event to gossip must be some sort of record for the nick.  Robbie couldn't decide if he was impressed or disappointed.  
  
“Sorry, sir,” James murmured, “but that’s what I heard, and since she was supposed to be in the senior officers’ meeting I thought you could shed some light on it.”  
  
Robbie turned towards James, who frowned deeply and started to dig through his desk drawers.  Robbie glanced down at himself.   _Bugger._    _Perfectly good tie tea-stained._ He lifted the soiled fabric to inspect the extent of the damage and groaned inwardly.  _And me bloody shirt._   However, he did manage to look on the bright side: he hadn't burnt himself, and he’d completely missed his keyboard and mouse.  He looked up when James called out.  
  
“Hah!”   James held up a navy blue tie in triumph.  “Here you go, sir.”  
  
“You haven’t got a spare shirt hiding in there as well, have you?” Robbie grumbled, tugging at the front of his shirt so James could see where the tea had left a long, dark streak on the pale blue cotton.  
  
James was on his feet in an instant.  “I’ll run down to the car and get one of your spares from there.”  
  
Robbie held up a hand, a signal for James to stop.  “In a bit; it’s not as though I’ve scalded meself or have to be anywhere in a hurry.  Sit down and tell me  _exactly_  what you heard.”

 

* * *

 

James carefully recounted the not-so-whispered conversation.  
  
Lewis rocked back in his chair.  “I know you don’t usually listen to gossip, so I'm assuming whoever it was is someone you’d consider above that.”  
  
James nodded.  The pair he’d overheard were senior officers he respected, so he'd given their words some credence.  Too much, it would appear.  
  
Lewis frowned and leant forward on the desk.  It was the face he made when he was weighing up his options.  “I didn't say anything when I came back because I hoped everyone in that meeting was above rumour and gossip, but clearly not.  I know you’ll keep this to yourself.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  Oh, James thought, so something had happened to Innocent.  
  
“They were right on one point.”  Lewis took a sip of his remaining tea.  “She did have marks on her neck, but they weren't the kind you get from someone trying to choke you, or from being struck.  I’ve seen marks like those before – so have you – and I doubt Innocent would have felt she needed to defend herself.”  
  
Lewis held James’s gaze, and James knew he should be able to put the pieces together.  If she wasn't struck or strangled, and it wasn't the result of threatening behaviour, how else did she get–  Oh.  Surely not?  This was Innocent.  She was too professional to allow herself...  
  
“Love bites?” James whispered incredulously.  Lewis nodded slowly.  That was an image James wasn't going to be able to get out of his mind for some time.  “Shouldn't someone say something to her?  She’s bound to have other meetings and–”  
  
Lewis smiled.  “I'm sure Amy’ll see her right.  If Innocent had gone to her office first, I don’t think any of us would have seen a thing.  That lass is one of the most valuable assets this station has – and Innocent knows it.”  
  
Having had more than a few encounters with Amy, James had to agree.

 

* * *

 

“Alan.  How can I help you?”  
  
Laura glanced at the packed and locked suitcase sitting near the front door.  The phone had rung just as she’d sat down with a cup of tea to await Ellen’s arrival.  If this was work-related, DI Peterson was going to regret dialling her number.  
  
“Laura, hi, I... ah...”  He cleared his throat.  He sounded nervous, a rare occurrence given how cocksure he always appeared to be, and that intrigued Laura.  
  
“Yes?” she encouraged him.  
  
“I was wondering if you’d be interested in dinner tonight.”  
  
Ah, thought Laura.  News of Franco’s return to Germany must have finally filtered through to him.  
  
“I'm sorry, Alan,” she said as gently as she could, “I'm on leave and I’ll be in the south of France this evening.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Until now, Laura had thought James Hathaway was the only person capable of putting an entire statement into a two-letter word.  She went easy on Peterson.  “I'm travelling with Ellen, an old friend from Uni.  I don’t think you've ever met her.”  
  
“Ellen?”  Laura could almost hear him thinking, trying to place the name.  “Right.  Um.  How about when you get back?”  
  
Laura closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.  She had to give him points for persistence and patience, but she wished he could take a hint.  She knew her mistake had been going out for drinks with him one night, and since then he’d rarely let an opportunity pass.  For a while it had been flattering, but right at that moment she was tired and her patience worn thin.  Even so, she bit back her first response; after all, she did have to work with the man and she didn't want bad blood there.  
  
“I don’t think so, Alan.”  She used a tone similar to the one she reserved for family members coming to the morgue: gentle, sincere, and sympathetic.  “I hope you can understand.”  
  
Unexpectedly, Peterson mumbled an apology and quickly hung up.  Laura stared at the handset for a moment before replacing it on the charging stand.  Odd.  Perhaps he’d finally got the hint.  She giggled suddenly.  He couldn't possibly be thinking she and Ellen were... involved?  Well, if he was, it was his illusion, and if it meant he’d turn his attentions elsewhere Laura wasn't going to enlighten him in a hurry; however, she wouldn't lie if he did have the gumption to ask her straight up.  
  
Smiling to herself, Laura settled back down in the armchair by the front window with her tea and book.

 

* * *

 

Jean smiled at Grainger’s back as he left her office.  The poor man hadn't known where to look when he first came in, and she couldn't resist teasing him by turning to gaze out the window in apparent thought and fully exposing her neck on three separate occasions.  That should quickly sort out those rumours; Grainger didn't like being made a fool of, and whether or not he had started or encouraged any of the talk, Jean was certain he would make short work of putting others in their place.  
  
Feeling rather pleased at having resolved what could have been a very embarrassing situation, Jean was just about to ask Amy to pop out for coffees for both of them – her shout – when another call came through.  Her good humour soon lessened.  
  
After terminating the call, she opened the email which had arrived simultaneously and scanned the attachment.  Letting out a heavy sigh, she then dialled an all too familiar extension.

 

* * *

 

Robbie put the phone down carefully and looked at James.  The spreadsheet was still obviously giving him grief, and he’d run his hands through his hair in frustration so often it was spiking in all directions.  
  
“C’mon, lad.  We've been summoned by herself.  Bloody good thing you went down for me clean shirt when you did.”  
  
“What does she want?”  James stood up seconds behind Robbie and slipped his jacket on.  
  
“She didn't say, though I have my suspicions.”  He stepped out of the office ahead of James, who was soon walking in step beside him.  “At this morning’s briefing she mentioned she’d be looking for ‘volunteers’ to attach a post-grad student to.”  Innocent’s idea of volunteer didn't always match up with the Oxford Dictionary’s definition.  “We’re the most recent off rotation, not that I think that’s going to last, so we’d be as good a candidate as any.”  
  
James made a non-committal sound.  “I appreciate it could be annoying to be followed around, but first-hand experience can be invaluable to a student.”  
  
Robbie looked sideways at James, not entirely surprised he could see the benefits in such a placement, but a little astonished he wasn't making at least a token protest.  “Right then, if we get one, he or she is your responsibility.   Nearly thirty years in Oxford and I still can’t speak student.”  He heard James’s soft laugh.  
  
“If it will keep you in good humour, sir, I’ll willingly sacrifice the space at the side of my desk.”  
  
“Good lad.”  They’d reached the outer door to Innocent’s office.  “After you.”

 

* * *

 

“Sit, please, gentlemen.”  Her tone suggested she was bored annoyed, which was much better than pissed-off annoyed, thought James, though neither boded well.  “A formal complaint has been received from the Dean of Beaufort."

  
James held his breath and Lewis filled the heavy pause which followed.  “Is this about Professor Sk– what was it again, James?”  
  
“Skopelitis, sir.”  He was staring at the edge of Innocent's desk but his eyes flicked up to briefly meet Innocent's fixed gaze.  James had hoped that particular incident forgotten or ignored, as it had been a week since they'd been at the college.  Evidently someone must have been stewing on it.  
  
“Aye.  That's him.”  Lewis murmured beside him.  Innocent nodded.  “It was a slip of the tongue, ma’am, and I did apologise at the time.”  
  
“Which is duly noted in the complaint, however, while the professor has become quite immune to being called Professor Scoliosis, he did not, Sergeant Hathaway, appreciate your childish sniggering, nor the–”  She glanced at her monitor.  “–and I quote, ‘insincere apology and continued smirking which followed’.”  
  
“I didn't–”  James closed his mouth tightly, realising a fraction too late any such protest  _would_  sound childish.  James schooled his face and raised his head, pressing his shoulders back.  “It was.. unfortunate, and it won’t happen again, ma'am.”  
  
“I'm quite sure it won't.”  Innocent turned to Lewis.  “The Dean has requested a letter of apology.”  
  
“I'll get onto it immediately, ma'am,” James stated, the words already coming together in his head.  
  
“Oh, not you, sergeant.  The Dean has requested Inspector Lewis write the apology.”  
  
“Me?”  Lewis frowned, though not as deeply as James.  
  
“The gist of the complaint is, Professor Skopelitis and the Dean both agree that your guidance of James must be in some way lacking if you allow him to behave in such a disrespectful manner, and that the insult is essentially your fault.  I won't relate the exact wording in the letter the Chief Constable received as I don't want to be responsible for your blood pressure going through the roof.  I will state that I think it's ridiculous, and I'm quite sure there's a reasonable explanation for what you did, James, but it's out of my hands.  The Chief Constable would like the letter to go out before the end of the week.  Understood?”  
  
They answered as one as they rose to leave.  “Yes, ma'am.”  
  
Neither said a word until they were back in their office.  
  
“I'm sorry, sir.  I thought we'd dodged that bullet.”  James had already explained what had made him laugh.  When they'd arrived at the professor's rooms to question him, he had just unwrapped a very stunning framed print; an unexpected gift from a former student, he'd explained proudly.  It was simply bad luck James had recognised the flowing text at the same time as Lewis's slip of the tongue.  “I'll write the letter for you, shall I?”  
  
“You were always going to, weren't you?”  
  
“There was never any doubt in my mind.”  James smiled.  
  
Lewis grinned back.  “Do you think the professor actually knows what the text says?”  
  
“I don't know.  Possibly, though professors of engineering aren't generally known for their knowledge of obscure Latin texts.  He'll be in for a shock if someone does translate and explain it to him.  Do you think I should point it out in the letter?”  James grinned wickedly.  
  
“What, that his precious print is actually an extract from what’s basically a piece of medieval porn?  Don't you bloody dare.”  Lewis laughed.  “The letter's supposed to be from me, remember?  That'd be a dead give-away I didn't write it."  
  
“Of course, how remiss of me not to consider that.  Clear, concise and no more than six multi-syllabic words – is that correct?”  James neatly ducked the paper-clip Lewis flung across the gap between their desks, but the wad of paper which followed caught him squarely between the eyes.

 

* * *

 

Laura recognised the car as it pulled up out the front.  Marking her place in the book, she rose, picked up her jacket, and headed towards the door.  The tea cup had been rinsed, dried, and put away a few minutes earlier.  She had just tucked the book into her hand luggage when the doorbell rang.  Opening the door, she was surprised to see not Ellen, but Ellen’s younger brother, Richard.  
  
“Oh, this is a surprise.”  She’d known Richard almost as long as Ellen, and though they’d spoken from time to time, it had been more than a few years since she’d seen him.  The passage of time had been very good to him.  
  
He smiled and held out his hand for her suitcase.  “When Ellen told me about her plans I offered to do the driving and save her the long-stay parking fee at the airport.”  
  
Laura set the alarm, locked the door, and followed Richard to the car.  Ellen was waving cheerily from the front passenger seat.  “That was very thoughtful of you.”  She noticed his ears turning very red and correctly assumed it wasn't due to the weather.  
  
“Saw it as chance to see you again.  It’s been too long, Laura.”  
  
She resisted the temptation to touch his arm.  “Yes, I suppose it has.”  She hadn't anticipated this and, not sure what else to say, Laura was grateful when Ellen chose that moment to get out of the car.  Richard put Laura’s case in the boot of the car as Ellen and Laura hugged in greeting.  Laura hoped the ride to the Heathrow wouldn't be too awkward.

 

* * *

 

Jean neatly folded the panini wrapper and dropped it in her bin.  The empty coffee cup followed shortly after.  It was as close to a gourmet meal as she was ever going to get on a work day, and this one had come with the bonus of being eaten uninterrupted.  She’d even managed to read a couple of chapters in the sadly neglected novel she’d been carrying around for weeks.  
  
She had Amy to thank for her thirty minute bubble of calm.  She’d not only run out for the food, she’d also cleared Jean’s diary for the time and deflected both calls and visitors.  If it was within Jean’s power she’d happily double the young woman’s salary.  
  
Jean stood and stretched herself, pushing her arms out wide, feeling the pull through her body, and releasing a sigh of relaxation.  She didn't even mind when her phone began to ring.  Until she recognised the number.

 

* * *

 

Robbie drained his orange juice and settled back into the chair.  Nipping out for a pub lunch today had been a good idea, even if they were technically on duty and couldn't have a beer.  Even James looked relaxed as he finished his beef and Guinness pie.  
  
James pushed his plate to the centre of the small table, wiped his mouth, and sat back with a sigh.  
  
“Enjoy that, did you?”  
  
James nodded and grinned.  “How long do you think we can play truant for?”  
  
“You, play truant?”  Robbie chuckled.  “I reckon you've time to finish your Coke and have a smoke in the garden before we head back.”  
  
“That’ll do.”  James was on his feet in an instant, glass in one hand while he pulled the packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket.  
  
They stepped out into the garden where the weak sun had barely warmed the brickwork James chose to lean against.  Robbie joined him.  
  
“I didn't see a single mark on Innocent’s neck,” James remarked casually.  
  
Robbie looked at him in astonishment.  “We’re getting a reprimand and you’re looking for...”  He huffed softly.  “I told you Amy would see her right.”  
  
“You did, and I never doubted it, sir.  I was merely... curious to see if I could see the marks.”  A smile tugged at the corner of James’s mouth, or it could have been an embarrassed grimace.  Sometimes Robbie couldn't tell.  
  
“Why?  Do you think you might need an emergency cover up one day, eh?”

 

* * *

 

James was spared from responding when Lewis’s phone rang.  It was a question which wouldn't have a right answer as far as James was concerned.  If he said yes... well, he knew it would give Lewis false hope; that Lewis would want to believe it meant James might be looking for a partner.  If James said no, he would be confirming his intention to stay single and he would glimpse sadness in Lewis’s eyes.  Again.  
  
Lewis was frowning as he ended the call and pushed off the wall.  “I’ve got to get back.  You can stay if you want.”  
  
“Oh?”  James stubbed out his cigarette and followed Lewis.  There was no objection from his governor.  
  
“Aye, Innocent’s looking for me and she’s got another meeting in half an hour so ‘can I get back as soon as possible’.”  
  
“Did she say what for?”  James had quickly racked his brain, but other than his faux pas with Professor Skopelitis, he’d drawn a blank on any other possible reason for Innocent needing to see Lewis urgently.  
  
“It was Amy who called, and no, she didn't say why.  Look on the bright side: it wasn't the desk sergeant with a call out.”  
  
James acknowledged Lewis’s observation, thankful their earlier conversation was now seemingly part of history.  Though, if he was truly honest with himself, James knew Lewis would store it away and wait for another day.

 

* * *

 

Richard dropped Laura and Ellen outside the terminal.  With a queue of cars waiting behind him, it would be a quick goodbye.  Laura was caught by surprise when Richard briefly hugged her and kissed her cheek.  
  
“Perhaps we can go for a drink when you get back,” he asked quietly.  
  
Laura smiled and nodded.  “Perhaps.”  
  
The women waved as he pulled away, the space quickly claimed by the next vehicle, which poured its four passengers out of three doors, prompting Laura and Ellen to move inside and check in.  
  
“Shall we get a coffee?” Ellen asked when they eventually walked away from the check-in desk.  
  
“As long as I can get a decaf.”  
  
Ellen smiled in understanding.  Despite her best efforts, Laura knew she must look tired.  “Do you have a preference?  There’re quite a few places to choose from after security.”  
  
Laura shook her head.  “You chose, and it’s my treat.”  
  
As she followed Ellen through the terminal, Laura let her mind wander back to Richard.  She’d always had a soft spot for him, but really only ever in a sisterly way, which was, she knew, very different to how he’d always viewed her.  She had fourteen days before she saw him again, time enough, she hoped, to consider the best way to let him down gently.  The age card?  It might work with some men, but not Richard.  Age was also a minor consideration as far as Laura was concerned.  At least with Ellen, Laura knew she wouldn't have to worry about being asked about it. If Laura didn't raise the subject, Ellen would let it lie.  At least until they saw Richard again.

 

* * *

 

As Jean flicked through the files Amy had brought in for her next meeting, her eyes were drawn to the clock on her monitor once again.  Where on earth was Inspector Lewis?  All Amy had said was he and Hathaway had gone out for lunch.  Jean reviewed the notes she’d scribbled during the call and felt her anger rising again.  It wasn't the first time the ACC had assigned due dates to tasks and then demanded the results earlier, but this time she suspected he only wanted the items cleared because he was going on leave and wanted to put his signature on the results.  
  
“At last,” she whispered as someone tapped sharply on her door.

 

* * *

 

“You wanted to see me, ma’am?”  
  
“Yes.  Thank you.  Please sit down, Robbie.”  
  
 _Robbie?_   That told him two things: one, neither he nor James were the cause of whatever had brought him here; and, two, he wasn't going to be entirely pleased by what she had to say.  He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and clasped his hands in front of him.  
  
“The ACC has requested the report on the review into this station’s community interaction,” Innocent said briskly.  
  
“Sergeant Hathaway’s been working on it, but it’s not due for some time yet, ma’am.”  
  
Innocent tilted her head apologetically.  “The ACC would like it earlier – yesterday if possible,” she said wryly.  
  
Robbie pressed his lips tightly together and exhaled slowly.  It wasn't the first time this had happened, but he knew if he went back and told James it was due, James would push himself to get it to the ACC that afternoon, and Robbie didn't really want that.  However, he also knew he couldn't delay the ACC for too long – unless they were called out, which he was also hoping wouldn't happen too soon.  He’d have to talk to James, find out how far along he was, but had to give Innocent an answer as well.  
  
“If you can get us an extension until close of business tomorrow, I’ll talk to James and see if it can be done.  I can’t promise anything more.”  
  
Innocent looked relieved.  “Consider it done.  I’ll emphasise your recent case load as well.  Not that it helps you or James, but he’s called in four reports early.  Personally, I think he’s being a little unreasonable.”  
  
Robbie wasn't going to argue – or agree out loud – with that.

 

* * *

 

James turned his full attention to Lewis when he returned to the office.  
  
Lewis sat down before he spoke.  “That report on community interaction you've been working on?”  James nodded.  “How’s it coming along?”  
  
“The first draft’s done.  I haven’t had time to proofread it yet.  Why?”  
  
“How long will it take you to complete?”  
  
James frowned.  “A few hours – it’s not overly complicated or involved.  But it’s not due for two weeks.”  
  
“Innocent needs it for the ACC by tomorrow afternoon.”  
  
James barely stopped himself rolling his eyes.  As they’d completed the paperwork from their last case, and had nothing else urgent on their plate, James had begun to entertain the hope of leaving early.  
  
“I’ll get onto it now and she can have it this afternoon.”  He went to open the document.  
  
“No.”  Lewis’s tone was unmistakeable.  James knew an order when he heard one, and his hand froze on his mouse.  
  
“Sir?”  Surely sooner was better?  
  
“Finish it this afternoon, if you can, but don’t send it until tomorrow afternoon.  Let’s keep the ACC’s expectations at a reasonable level.”  
  
James grinned.  “Understood, sir.”

 

* * *

 

Laura closed her eyes as the plane levelled out.  If she was lucky she’d get a good hour of sleep.  Ellen had pulled out her book as soon as they’d boarded and was now deeply involved in the world of Aubrey and Maturin.  This was one of the reasons Laura liked spending time with Ellen.  Oh, Ellen could be a little... idealistic... sometimes – not that there was anything wrong with being a dreamer.  God knows, Laura sometimes wished she could let her mind fly as free as Ellen could – but she was a good friend who understood when Laura was in a mood to talk, and when she needed silence.

 

* * *

 

Jean shut down her computer with a satisfied smile. Her meetings were over and she’d managed to come out without any additional work for herself, a most unusual outcome, and a win she’d gladly take.  She’d also managed to convince the ACC to give James two days to complete his report, even though Lewis had quickly confirmed she’d have it at some point the following day.  It would give her time to review it before forwarding it on, and because it had been written by James, she knew she’d only be reading for content and not grammar and spelling as well.   Lewis had also mentioned the letter of apology; that she would have to read more carefully to ensure James hadn't let his own voice creep in.  She knew they knew she would know James had written it, despite the directive, but, as it made life easier all round, she saw no point ruining the illusion.  They were an excellent team, and she was going to be devastated to lose both of them when Lewis eventually retired.  That James would resign at the same time was one fact she would bet her life-savings on.  
  
She shook her head and gathered up her coat and handbag.  Leaving at 5pm was another rare treat.  Phillip would be home when she got there and he’d sent her a message an hour or so earlier to say he was making dinner.  She was going to gently scold him for the love bites, but she wasn't going to stop him if there was to be a repeat performance.  She’d simply make sure she’d check for marks very thoroughly in the morning, and she was now equipped to cover up any evidence as Amy had kindly stepped out and picked up a concealer for her while she’d had been out of the office.

 

* * *

 

Robbie read through the letter of apology to Professor Skopelitis once more.  It was very good, but the speed with which James had written the letter had caused Robbie to wonder if he had been shaping the words in his head since the incident in expectation of being called to account.  It would be typical of James to over-think and anticipate the worst; however, Robbie doubted even James would have considered it would be his governor who would be asked to apologise.  
  
All Robbie had to do now was pass the letter off as his own, even though he knew Innocent would know James had written the letter.  She would also understand, as Robbie did, that James wrote it as much for himself as for his governor.  
  
James let out a groan and pushed himself away from the desk.  
  
“That you finished?” Lewis asked.  
  
James nodded.  “Report’s ready to go.”  
  
“Right, then; let’s get out of here.  Pint?”  
  
“Yeah.”  It came out as a sigh as James pushed himself to his feet.

 

* * *

 

James leant heavily against the bar while he waited for their beers to be poured.  He was conscious of Lewis watching while trying to look like he wasn't.  James had grown used to Lewis quietly observing him, and far from being disconcerting, James found Lewis’s attention comforting.  It was the days when Lewis didn't study him like this which worried James.  That generally only occurred when James had done something to disappoint him.  
  
James often wondered what went through Lewis’s mind at these times.  James was all too aware Lewis wanted him to find a partner, so perhaps his thoughts were in that direction.  James hoped not.  As far as James was concerned, he already had a partner, though not quite in the sense Lewis meant.  Lewis might argue, but James didn't want anything or anyone else.  He was dreading the day Lewis retired.  He knew he had to one day, and James also knew he had to find a way to make sure they continued to be a part of each other’s lives.

 

* * *

 

Laura stretched out in the back of the private limousine, glass of champagne in hand.  Her chin had nearly hit the ground when she realised the sleek, black vehicle was there to transport them to the villa, which was located an hour west of Nice.  Laura thought she could get used to this lifestyle... for a little while, at least.

 

* * *

 

Jean arrived home.  The smell of garlic, coriander and chicken wafted through the hallway, drawing her through the house.  She found Phillip in the kitchen.  He was facing the hob with his back to the doorway, gently stirring a simmering dish which was the source of the wonderful aroma.  She crept up quietly behind him, slipping her arms around his waist.  He swivelled his head around to kiss her and she stepped back to give him just enough space to turn and embrace her.  
  
“I missed you today.  Did you miss me?” he murmured.  
  
Jean let her kisses show him how much.  
  
When then broke away, breathless, Phillip whispered, “There’s an hour ‘til dinner’s ready; fancy sharing a bath?”

 

* * *

 

They had gone out to the beer garden so James could have a smoke, and were leaning against the same wall they had leant against earlier that day.  This time, however, their arms were pressed together from shoulder to elbow.  Robbie told himself he’d done it because it was cool outside and James was warm.  He knew it wasn't the truth though, not for himself at least.  He wasn't sure how to tell James how he felt, and he didn't want to risk James misunderstanding and possibly being scared off or alarmed.  The truth was, in recent weeks Robbie had been contemplating his eventual retirement, and the thought of not seeing James every day had made him ache to the point he began to feel ill, heartsick.  Robbie wasn't sure what he would eventually do when not retiring was no longer an option, but whatever it was, he wanted – needed – it to include James.

 

* * *

 

James savoured the warmth of Lewis by his side.  He didn't have to join James, but had followed without hesitation or invitation when James had gestured he was stepping outside.  Despite the chill in the air, James felt he could stay there all night.  Instinct told him the feeling was mutual, though what that meant for the future, James couldn't say.  Under the cover of darkness he almost felt brave enough to ask Lewis.  Almost.  He reluctantly took one last drag on the cigarette.  Going back into the pub would mean losing Lewis at his side.  
  
Lewis nudged his elbow.  “You hungry?”  
  
James nodded.  If he couldn't be in contact with Lewis, at least dinner would give them another hour or so together.  
  
“Egg, chips, and beans good for you?” Lewis asked.  
  
“Do they serve that here?”  James couldn't remember seeing it on the menu at any time.  
  
“Thought you might like to come back to mine rather that eating here?” Lewis said quietly.  
  
James smiled.  “I would like that.  Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Even though she’d been sitting down for the better part of the day, it was with a deep, heartfelt sigh that Laura sank onto the chaise lounge in her room.  She stretched out, toed off her shoes, and listened to them hit the floor with a satisfying thunk.  From her reclined position, she could see the Mediterranean through the open French doors and the bars of the wrought iron balcony.  It glistened under the setting sun, not that she could actually see the sun considering she was facing south.  Or was it east?  She closed her eyes for a moment.  
  
The sight of the villa had taken Laura’s breath away.  Perched near the edge of a cliff, the driver explained it had been one of the few coastal buildings in the area to survive World War Two relatively intact.  Once they’d arrived, Laura had hoped to go to bed and sleep until dawn, but their hosts had announced an early dinner would be ready in an hour.  It had felt rude to make an excuse, so instead she had thanked them, and then followed the housekeeper upstairs to her room.  She’d been shown where everything was, including the ridiculously large bathroom which connected her and Ellen’s rooms, and then left to her own devices.  
  
Laura kept her eyes closed when she heard the shower start to run.  She decided she’d shower after Ellen then, after dinner – if she could keep her eyes open – she’d have a bath.  A long, deep soak in the generously sized, very non-period, spa bath.

 

* * *

 

Jean and Phillip curled up together on the couch, wrapped in bathrobes.  Two full plates sat on the coffee table, accompanied by one of Jean’s favourite wines.  The Moroccan style chicken tagine was one of Phillip’s signature dishes, and the first meal he had ever cooked for Jean when they'd started seeing each other.  Neither was paying much attention to the food, however.  Phillip had made promises to her as they bathed and now he was keeping them.

 

* * *

 

When they arrived back at Robbie’s, Robbie insisted James go and change first, while he would start getting dinner ready.  James had been keeping an overnight bag, along with a spare suit, shirt and tie, at Robbie’s for a few months now.  It started after James had crashed, exhausted, on Robbie’s couch one night and they’d received a 3am call-out.  Rather than lose valuable time getting to the crime scene by going home first, James had pulled on his worn clothes.  It had earned him a tongue-in-cheek reprimand from Laura.  Robbie, however, had received a stern lecture about looking out for James better, which had led to him suggesting the new arrangement.  It worked well for both of them, and Robbie liked knowing there was a piece of James in his flat all the time.  
  
James took over the meal preparation while Robbie changed.  When Robbie returned to the kitchen, he took a moment to watch the ease with which James moved around the kitchen, his hands unerringly finding what he needed.  It was as though he was where he belonged.

 

* * *

 

James had heard Lewis’s footsteps stop, and sensed he was being watched again.  He wondered if Lewis realised how often he did it.  One day, James would ask him what he thought about, but not today.  It wasn't because he didn't want to know – sometimes he desperately wanted to – but the truth was he was afraid Lewis would stop doing it if James indicated he knew, and James would miss the attention.  It wasn't ego; it was because there was a level of care and protectiveness in Lewis’s manner James had never experienced from anyone else.  
  
“How’s it going?” Lewis asked, breaking the moment.  
  
James turned and smiled.  “Nearly done.”  
  
“Like me to finish up?  After all, I did invite you to have dinner, not to cook it.”  Lewis gave a sheepish half-smile.  
  
“I’ll get the drinks, then, shall I?”  James stepped away from the hob as Lewis drew closer.  
  
“Good lad.”  
  
James studied the contents of the fridge.  What went with egg and chips?  He settled on Newcastle Brown Ale and poured two glasses while Lewis served up their meal.  He joined Lewis at the table and gave a silent prayer of thanks.

 

* * *

 

Laura leant against the balcony and stared at the boats anchored below.  The moon had risen, bathing everything below in a silver shimmer.  She could even see the steps cut into the cliff stretching down to the beach below.  Despite her tiredness, dinner had been unexpectedly delightful, as had her bath afterwards, and now she felt oddly revived.  It was beautiful here, far warmer than Oxford, and even at night the water was inviting.  She wondered if she could convince Ellen to go for a moonlit swim the following night.  She turned at noise behind her.  Ellen was standing in the doorway to the bathroom with a bottle of wine and two glasses.  
  
“Night cap?” Ellen asked.  
  
“Why not?”  Laura pointed to the bench on the balcony.  “It’s lovely out here.”

 

* * *

 

Jean blinked slowly as Phillip wrapped himself around her, pulling her into the curve of his body.  She was completely limp and doubted she could move right now, even if her life depended on it.  If there was an emergency, Phillip would have to carry her, that’s all there was to it.  She sighed softly and Phillip nuzzled her neck.  Nights like these were rare and precious.

 

* * *

 

Robbie shifted to the edge of the couch with a groan.  
  
“You want another beer?”  He smiled as James slowly dragged his attention away from the telly.  Robbie had hoped James would like  _Life on Mars_ ; he’d been surprised when James had admitted he’d never watched it.  
  
James wrinkled his face in indecision.  “I shouldn't really. Overdid things a bit last night, and I should probably be making a move soon, anyway.”  
  
“You don’t have to go anywhere.  The couch is all yours if you want it.”  
  
James didn't take too long to think it over.  “Thank you.  You stay there; I’ll get the drinks.”  
  
He rose to his feet with an ease Robbie envied, long limbs loose as he walked to the kitchen.   
  
They settled back on the couch together.  James sank down so his head was practically resting on Robbie’s shoulder and he soon appeared engrossed back in the telly.  It was nice to see James so relaxed, so comfortable.  Even when they were in the middle of a case, James always seemed to be able to unwind here.  Robbie couldn't deny James’s presence helped him too; he was all too aware he’d be living in a much bleaker world if he hadn't met James when he did.  
  
He thought it was a pity quiet nights like this it couldn't happen more often.  Although...  Robbie’s lease was up in a few months and, if he remembered right, James’s was due around the same time.   _Wonder if the lad would ever consider sharing a place?_   Robbie decided to give it some more thought before he said anything to James.

 

* * *

 

James could happily sit like this every night if their workload allowed.  Lewis’s flat was the one place he’d always felt comfortable, always welcome.  That was because of Lewis. Anywhere Lewis chose to live, James was sure he would find a retreat from the worst life could throw at him. He wondered, and not for the first time, how Lewis would respond if he was to suggest sharing a flat, or maybe even a compact semi with a small garden.  James hadn't shared a living space with anyone since boarding school – he’d never found anyone he thought he’d be compatible with – but he’d spent enough time with Lewis to know they’d be well suited, no matter how much Lewis grumbled about being set in his ways.  It was a thought – a hope – which warmed James.  He wriggled down a little further, smiling to himself when heard Lewis make a small sound of contentment.  Maybe he had more than a hope.

 

* * *

 

The call came in to the station at 4am.  Sergeant Wilkes rubbed his hand down his face.  The body of a young man had been found by the bin men near the Westgate Shopping Centre.  He’d been brutally beaten and left slumped against one of the commercial bins.  Two constables were on the scene and SOCO were on the way.  Wilkes checked and double-checked the duty roster.  It was the fifth serious incident for the night, and the first death.  He dialled DS Creighton’s mobile and relayed the information.  He pitied the young man, who’d volunteered to rouse DI Peterson.

  
Wilkes tapped his teeth with the end of his pen as he reviewed the roster.  What a mad couple of days this had been.  If there was another death tonight, Lewis and Hathaway would have to be the next roused from their beds.  He hoped he didn't have to make that call.  
  
The call came in at 5.15am.

 

**Author's Note:**

> From this prompt by barcardivodka
> 
> Fic, Robbie, Hathaway and canon cast  
> Prompt: A day in the life - a routine day at the nick for the Dynamic Duo. What happens between the cases? Series-compliant.


End file.
